


show me a hero and i'll show you a tragedy

by fuscience



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Always Alive! Allison, F/M, Fix-it fic, Lydia Martin/Allison Argent friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 20:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1359985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuscience/pseuds/fuscience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between Lydia and Allison, one of them is dying too often and the other is left wandering dreams. Stiles has to dig the graves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	show me a hero and i'll show you a tragedy

**Author's Note:**

> NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE

 

 

_Tell me a story about how the sun loved the moon so much, he died every night so she could breathe._

 

Lydia screamed until her throat was raw and the thin lines of her vocal chords ached and snapped and she coughed up blood. She screamed until a numbness set in, long after the Nogitsune had been expelled from their life and Allison's body lay cold in the ground.

 

The nightmares started when her screams could no longer drown them out.

* * *

 

_The first night, her friends got the hidden messages left all over town and Allison lived. Lydia wrapped her arms around her friend, fingers winding into the strap of the Argent's leather quiver, grabbing and making sure she was real._

_"Lydia?" Allison laughs, light and breathless from the fight._

_"I'm sorry. I'm just - so glad you're okay."_

_"I'm glad you're okay too." There are tears streaming down Lydia's face, relieved, nervous laughter flutters out and she lets her hands wander to Allison's shoulders, catching her friend's eyes._

_"Lydia!" Allison screams in abject terror, eyes wide and teeth bared. She pushes Lydia to the ground and dies again._

* * *

 

Lydia wakes up.

 

Stiles picks her up for school three hours later and says nothing about the dark circles under eyes. He does reach across and wipe the smear of lipstick away that marks her cheek. She flinches and he immediately backs up, curling into himself and shifting the car into drive.

 

It's not that he scares her. Stiles with his large hands and arms that are constantly wobbling around could never scare her. But Allison's blood still slides down Lydia's neck and torso, warm and wet, and she doesn't want anyone to touch her.

 

It's a good thing Lydia's has a genius-level intellect because anyone else would've been lost after a day of zoning out and staring at the chalkboard.

 

Stiles waits for her after school, leaning against his jeep and flipping through a book on economics. He's got weeks of homework to catch up on and Lydia's helping him every night.

 

"Ready?"

 

She waits for him to open the door before climbing in, heel clicking against the side of the car. He goes to put a hand on her elbow, but stops and withdraws, hoping Lydia doesn't notice. She does.

 

When Stiles pulls out into the street, Lydia finds his hand, the one resting half into the cup holder, and intertwines their fingers.

 

That night she dreams again.

* * *

 

 

_The Nogitsune turns his back and Lydia lunges, clawing at his face and eyes, ripping at the shirt he shouldn't be wearing.  When he's writhing on the ground in pain she runs for it, sprinting through the wet stone halls, the sound of her steps echoing. Allison, Isaac, and Kira stand at attention when Lydia emerges behind Mrs. Yukimura. The Oni turn at her presence but are quick to ignore her and Lydia unconsciously traces the kanji branded onto her neck. It’s a symbol of her purity and she absolutely detests it._

_Lydia watches Allison weave through the immovable spirits, Isaac on her heels and rushed to meet them._

_"We found you."_

_"Why are you here?!" She yells, breath coming out in gasping clouds. "Didn't you get my message?" There's a strangled sob in her throat because of course they didn't get her message, they wouldn't be here if they got her message._

_Allison grips her shoulders, pulling the shorter girl into a hug and Lydia fights against it, already recognizing the parody of her first dream. The other girl is stronger though and Lydia is yanked around so she faces the tunneled exit. She is forced to watch the glowing shadow of the Nogitsune stalk angrily from the darkness, skin ripped and red, one eye gouged out. There's a scream ripping through her throat as the spirit shoves a sword straight through Allison's heart and into Lydia's shoulder._

The tears streaming down Lydia's face when she wakes are real. The rest is questionable, even though her shoulder aches as she steps into the jeep hours later for school.

 

Thank god it's Friday

* * *

 

 

Sunday night, Stiles sits at his keyboard typing up a paper on the  U.S. Embargo of Cuba and it’s long term economic effects as Lydia lies on his bed, feet kicking up and down lazily.

 

"So what's the point of this embargo again? I lost track somewhere between the United Nations resolutions and Clinton's term." He swivels in his computer chair, turning to watch Lydia who is staring absently at his bedspread, picking at the loose threads and idly rotating her shoulder.

 

"Lydia?"

 

She looks up at him sharply, "What?"

 

Her frown only increases when Stiles comes over, looking all concerned, and kneeling on the floor.

 

"Don't worry about it." He scrubs his lips with the  back of his, before reaching into his jacket pocket. He screws off the top of the bottle and dumps out several little white pills. "Here."

 

When Lydia doesn't move he reaches for her well-manicured hand and unfurls the tightly clenched fingers.

 

"Take them. One before bedtime. I know you haven't been sleeping."

 

"You would be the expert on not sleeping." Lydia wasn't sleeping much after Allison died and now, with the nightmares, she's lucky to get a couple hours of hellish sleep each night before waking in a cold sweat and tears.

 

Lydia's mom is home when Stiles drops her off that night, but he still walks her up to her room, sitting and waiting while she gets ready for bed.

 

They talk about school and the hours they spend apart - Stiles is getting back into lacrosse though coach is on his ass about catching up on class work and Lydia complains about the school advisor's inability to understand that she is miles above her classmates intellect.

 

"I think I'll go to MIT." She whispers sleepily as Stiles tucks her into bed. The pill is starting to draw her under.

 

"Going to leave Beacon Hills?"

 

_Going to leave us?_

 

"I'd go farther but the Atlantic Ocean hinders that." She pauses. "It also has the best, most awesome mathematics program in the entire fifty states."

 

_There’s nothing in this town but broken hearts and too many graves._

 

He laughs and there's a sad edge to it, but Lydia is _so, so_ tired and she barely feels the brush of Stiles' lips on her forehead before slipping into unconsciousness.

* * *

 

_This time Lydia can move. The dream doesn't play out like a story that's already written and Lydia fights her way out, tugging and screaming until everyone's ears burst. She pushes them all into their vehicles, raging with determination and finally slides into the seat next to Allison, clinging to her best friend's arm._

_There’s a lot of shouting, but no one can hear each other, rivulets of blood leaking out of broken ears - the werewolves heal faster._

_"What's going on?! LYDIA!" Isaac turns to her from the other side of Allison - the only one in the car who still can't hear. Lydia grabs him by the scruff of his collar, yanking him forward so Allison can’t see._

_"Allison is going to die. Isaac! Listen to me - she is going to die.” Lydia’s whispering furiously, panicked, “Someone. Is going to die."_

_Part of her knows its a dream._

_"I can't - she can't die again."_

_Kira turns around, hearing Lydia’s broken plea, and then, Lydia watches sadly as the world turns on its head. The car hits the concrete and slides sideways into a ditch, bumper crumpling in  and airbags releasing. Allison's head goes the wrong way and Lydia watches the light fade from her gaze, choking on her own helplessness._

 

_The Nogitsune's voice drifts into the back seat cabin as blood drips slowly into Lydia's eyes, staining her view red._

 

_"Fail. Try again. Fail again. Fail better. Hmmm." The shadow of Stiles' face hangs over the window, "I don't think I said that quite right. What are you going to do, little dreamer? Little screamer?"_

She wakes up.

* * *

 

 

The dreams continue. Allison is stabbed, crushed, beaten in, sliced to pieces, strangled over and over and Lydia keeps going back. The end is always her friend dying, but, when she closes her eyes, the beginning is always her friend living and that’s worth entering hell over and over again.

 

During the hours she doesn't sleep, Lydia begins to read borrowing books from the local Druids - Deaton is complacent, if not encouraging, while Ms. Morell is downright hostile like she can sense what Lydia is grasping for. The pages are worn and yellowed, soft with an age that she can't even fathom and it is these thoughts that lull her to sleep each night.

 

Stiles doesn't give her anymore sleeping pills. Instead, he comes over to her house and sits next to her claiming his homework is far too boring when there are medieval books in front of him.

 

"I'm an information whore. _Wikipedia is my freaking crack_."

* * *

 

_They read and they think until one night Lydia dreams and its different. Allison's there, but so are Stiles and Scott. All three circle around the stump of the Nematon, scuffing the dirt and acting like Lydia is not standing there watching them move robotically._

_They bend on their knees and begin to dig until holes appear, carved out into the mystic tree's underbelly. Lydia watches them lay down and the roots swallow them whole, three teenagers disappearing under thick woven strands of wood._

_She doesn't scream, but runs forward and looks down into the earth. The earth is lumped where her friend's dug, forming a triskelion and each grave marks a point on the symbol. Lydia drops to her knees, scraping at the soil frantically trying to uncover her friends, muttering the entire time._

_"Please don't take them. Please don't take them."_

_Her fingers hit cloth and she grabs._

* * *

 

Stiles is shaking her awake and Lydia leaps backwards in fright before shakily standing up.

 

"You were screaming." Stiles looks part curious and part worried. "Regular scream, not supernatural." 

 

"I had a dream."

 

"I assumed as much." Stiles peers down at her clenched fist, "What's that?"

 

Lydia stares at her right hand, a piece of black leather curled inside her fingers. Releasing the death grip, she peels apart the material and finds a metal shard. Stiles reaches forward and carefully picks it up.

 

"An arrowhead?"

 

It glints off the moonlight and she recognizes it all too well, except last time it had been buried six feet under with the body of Allison Argent. Stiles looks to her for answers and _Lydia knows_. _**She knows.**_

 

“We have to go."

* * *

 

 

For the first time in a long while, Lydia doesn't crave sleep, doesn't desperately wish for a moment of peaceful rest. She’s wide awake as the jeep bumps heavily on the road into Beacon Hills most dangerous area - it’s forest.

 

"Should I call someone? I should call someone. We should call someone."

 

"Shut up Stiles. We're not calling or texting or using smoke signals to communicate with anyone." Stiles helps her climb over a root. "I - I don't want to give anyone hope."

 

The woods are quiet - too quiet, as they near the old tree stump. A fog drifts into the trees and the moon shines bright overhead, it's full and that's ironic.

 

“Ow.” A branch reaches out draws a thin line of blood across Lydia’s arm, shaking when she tugs free. Stiles turns, but she waves him off, stifling the blood with the piece of leather the Nematon gave her.

 

They arrive and Stiles swings the shovel over his shoulder, jaw working back and forth, working out the questions in his head.

 

The tree feels familiar to Stiles, like an old friend - it feels like home for Lydia. Death and resurrection. A heavy shadow of lives lost and won. Stiles digs where Lydia points, upending the ground and tossing it to the side, until she says stop. There’s a pile of dirt off to the side and he’s sweating and panting with the effort of lifting the shovel - the spiritual possession had not been kind to his body.They bury the arrow head and sit and wait, letting the breeze spread the smell of fresh graves.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE


End file.
